


Trippin'

by nchi_wana



Category: Et Cetera (Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Humor, Mid-Canon, Mushrooms, Romance, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/pseuds/nchi_wana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mingchao eats something she shouldn't have. Now she can't tell the difference between dream and reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trippin'

Mingchao’s stomach grumbled loudly, and she stopped in her work. “Ohhhhh...”

Fino had been standing close by in the meadow when she heard. Standing up from her gathering of the berries, she glared at her. “Again? You just ate an hour ago!”

Mingchao slumped down to the ground, clutching her stomach. She set aside the basket she’d been carrying. “I’m a growing girl, okay? I eat a lot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Fino grumbled in reply.

They’d been busy all morning gathering food for their friends in a meadow. The actual camp was nearly a mile away down a mountainside, but Fino was adamant that the best food could be taken from this particular location. Taking two fairly large baskets that Fino had fashioned herself, she and Mingchao trekked out in the early morning so they could get back by the afternoon. Since all they had left was dried jerky, and Fino wouldn’t eat meat, it was imperative that they find alternative food sources.

Mingchao gave her a hopeful look. “Can I eat just one—“

“No!” Fino snapped. She glanced at her basket to gauge its collection. “We’ve still got a ways to go. So come on, Mingchao. You can do it.”

Her friend’s firm encouragement got Mingchao back to her feet, but she was beginning to feel a little lightheaded from the hunger. “But how much longer ‘til we can go?”

Fino vented a sigh. “How much do you have in your basket?”

“Uhhh…” Mingchao shifted the contents. “Not…a lot?”

Fino’s expression went hard at first, but then softened. She chuckled. “Really, you’d never survive in my village.”

“This is hard!” Mingchao complained, dropping back to her knees. Tears welled in her eyes. “And I’m still—“ She saw something peculiar in the soil next to her and plucked it up. “Fino, what’s this?”

Her friend went to stand beside her. “That’s a mushroom.”

“I knew that!”

“Something tells me you didn’t.”

“Well, I did. It’s not like I’ve never seen a mushroom before. I wanted to know what _kind_ of mushroom it was.”

Fino paused as she tried to remember. She took the mushroom and turned it over. “I’m not sure. I can’t place the name.”

“Is it food?” Mingchao asked, her eyes sparkling. “There’s more here.”

Fino shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s not food. I remember my grandmother telling me that _this_ mushroom is not for eating. Now throw it back.”

Mingchao whimpered as she tossed the plant aside, and her friend went back to gathering the berries. The mushrooms grew all around her, and to Mingchao, if it didn’t kill you, it was food. But she didn’t want to risk facing Fino’s wrath later. _I’m so hungry, though_ , she thought, her stomach growling again. She slowly got to her feet, wobbling a little. The sun above her seemed brighter than before, and she felt sweat accumulating on her forehead. Moisture dampened her underarms.

Her fingers picked away at the tiny berries that grew low to the ground. The work was tedious and boring, and she wondered how Fino put up with it her whole life. It was going to take forever to collect enough with the berries being so tiny. It wasn’t that Mingchao wasn’t used to gathering food, though. She’d done it before when she lived with her grandfather, and when she was on the road afterwards. She preferred catching meat, however. Trapping was her expertise. She wouldn’t normally complain about collecting plants, but being hungry on the job made the work more difficult, and she complained more often.

When Mingchao thought she’d gathered enough, she sat down in the soft grass. She spied Fino several feet away at the edge of the meadow. She had so many berries in her basket that they were beginning to spill over the rim.

Mingchao’s stomach groaned again, louder this time. She knew that if she even ate one berry, Fino would see her to do it. She’d been scolded before for eating more than her fair share of food, and she didn’t want to do it again. Leaning back on the grass, she put her hand behind her and felt something squishy. There was another mushroom under her palm. Glancing at Fino, Mingchao made sure she was preoccupied, and then took up the mushroom. She sniffed it. It smelled okay, even good. In fact, she thought this might be a mushroom she used in her own cooking. Fino had to be wrong about this one.

She popped it into her mouth, taking another furtive look at Fino. The Indian girl was crouched toward the ground, the basket balanced with expert skill against her hip. She hadn’t seen.

Mingchao swallowed and awaited the results. After about two minutes, she felt nothing except a slight satisfaction to her hunger. She made herself look busy by plucking berries around where she was seated. When her friend was turned away again, Mingchao took up another mushroom and ate it. Soon she had eaten five, and her stomach was silenced for the moment.

She placed a hand over her belly, still feeling nothing out of the ordinary. Honestly, she hadn’t been certain that the mushrooms were safe, but now she was confident they were. With renewed strength to carry on, she stood and gathered up a few more berries, along with a few extra mushrooms to secret away into her pocket for the return trip.

When Fino announced the end of their task, they headed back down the mountain. She commented on Mingchao’s change in demeanor, but Mingchao chalked it up to her endurance honed during her time on the road. It was partly true.

They reached their camp by late afternoon. The tents were spread out under the trees, which provided shade in the heat of midday. A ribbon of smoke curled through the branches from the small fire they’d built, dissipating into a haze that filtered the sunlight over their heads. Yaghi was sitting near the fire with Benkate, who’d been stoking it to life. Baskerville was somewhere unseen along with Alternate.

“’Bout time,” Benkate said. Yaghi jumped up and ran to his sister with excitement.

“Wow!” the boy said, his eyes roving over the baskets. “You got a lot of this time!”

“It was a good spot,” Fino agreed.

When Yaghi looked at Mingchao’s basket, he frowned. She frowned back at him. Her stomach was beginning to growl again.

Baskerville and Alternate returned with armfuls of kindling for the fire, and everyone went to work preparing for the night’s meal. They enjoyed the leisurely time in the forest, listening to the birds filling the air with their whistles and chirps. It would probably be the last time they could relish a time like this. Things were going to get ugly very soon, when they reached New York City.

Night was upon them before they realized how long they’d been sitting around the fire sharing stories. They broke up and went to their tents, but there were only three tents, meaning they could fit two people per tent. Yaghi wanted to stay with Alternate, much to everyone’s surprise; something about “man-to-man” talk, probably about his sister. That left three women for one man, and because Baskerville was leery about Benkate, and didn’t think he knew Fino very well, his only option was Mingchao. Mingchao had nothing against _that_. She ignored Benkate’s snickers and went with Baskerville to their tent.

As Mingchao was setting up her bed, she let out a small burp and giggled.

“Nice,” Baskerville said. His bed was already set up and ready to go, and he was in the process of crawling in. “You’d better not get sick on me tonight.”

“I’m not sick,” Mingchao countered. “I just ate a lot.”

“You’ve also been burping a lot.”

“I’m fine!” She gave him a confident smile.

She settled into her bedroll. A space of about five inches separated them. Mingchao wasn’t complaining. Ever since her friend went missing and returned with amnesia, she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. Besides, what with an upcoming battle on the horizon, she wanted to be as close to him as possible.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, however, she fell right asleep. So much for staying up and discussing all of life’s great mysteries with him.

When Mingchao opened her eyes again, she realized something was different, _very_ different. She _felt_ different, and awkward. Something was wrong with her feet, and there was a terrible draft that almost made her shiver. Her vision was too fuzzy to make out what was before her.  It took a few moments for her senses to put together this puzzling reality, and her vision cleared.

She was standing in front of a mirror, but the reflection confused her.  The face staring back at her resembled her, but she looked older and was wearing a red qi pao embroidered with flowers and dragons. It was unlike the ones she was used to seeing. It was scandalously short, drawing the eye up her shapely legs, and it was tight to where it hugged her curves. Curves?! She had curves?! Mingchao patted down her hips to find, yes, the full hips of a grown woman! Her hands traced her body till they reached her full bosom.

Mingchao looked back at her reflection, dumbfounded. It all felt so real, and she couldn’t decide whether she should be delighted or horrified. Her lips were painted a luscious red, and her eyes were outlined in thick black.  She had more makeup on than that saloon dancer Bodney, who would’ve been jealous to see this stunning Chinese beauty. On her feet were red heels that glittered with what looked like rubies. Mingchao turned one foot to watch it sparkle. They were the most gorgeous shoes she’d ever seen!

Her hands came up to her cheeks as she ogled her own image in the mirror. _I’m beautiful! I look like a Hollywood star!_ Her hair was twisted up and pinned with two sticks that gleamed with black lacquer, accompanied by two Chinese coins hanging from delicate chains. The wealth gathered on top of her head sported a few perfect curls that tickled her neck and shoulders. Gold earrings painstakingly wrought in the shape of the Chinese character for “dream” dangled from her earlobes.

Behind her the room was dark, but the longer she stood there the room began to take shape and brighten. It wasn’t huge, but she was still amazed at the fancy furnishings. The main color was red, like the dress she was wearing. It was difficult to take it all in. Everything seemed to glitter. Next to her was a vanity table with another mirror. On the table were various brushes and powders and paints. Gold and silver bracelets, pearl necklaces, and rings studded with diamonds and other jewels glowed in the phantom lamplight. On the adjacent wall was a closet filled with clothes. She rushed over to raid its contents. Frilly skirts, feathery boas, hourglass corsets, and qi paos more scandalous than the one she wore passed through her hands. All of them were made of the finest materials, ones Mingchao didn’t know even existed. On the top shelf were tiaras, headdresses adorned with peacock feathers, and other sundry items she couldn’t identify, but she was certain they went on her head. On the floor were piles of shoes that she immediately dove into, pulling out heels and boots and slippers.

When she had satisfied her curiosity, she stood and examined the rest of the room. A long couch graced the back wall, its seat made of scarlet velvet, and the arms and back were carved of glossy wood. The floor was a carpet of light pink, and wallpaper of similar hue featured dark feather and flower designs. A sleek wooden table was set beside the couch, a tea set placed on its surface. From the ceiling hung an iron chandelier with lamps and dazzling crystals swinging just beneath it. The crystals captured the light from the lamps and cast a glimmer on the walls.

“What _is_ this place?” Mingchao wondered aloud. Even her voice was deeper, more mature. Her hand went up to her throat at the sound. Her nails were manicured and painted red without even a smudge. Everything was red. “Is this a dream?” Wasn’t she just in the forest camp earlier with all her friends?

When she touched her hair, her jewelry, and her body, they were as solid as they would be in reality. Her mind focused on the pink light from the room, and although everything seemed to have a gauzy halo around it, when she touched everything it was all real.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard an earnest rap at her door. She hadn’t seen the door previously. It was of ordinary construction, which seemed odd in relation to the room. Startled, she waited to see if maybe the knock had been her imagination.

The knock came again, and with it came a frantic voice. “Mingchao, where are you?! They’re waiting for you!”

Her heart leapt, and without concern for her revealing outfit, she ran to the door and opened it swiftly. She almost fell over. In front of her stood an older version of Alternate who looked very displeased. In one arm he carried a bundle of papers, and he was dressed in a nice suit that had a pocket watch with its chain extended out of a pocket. He wasn’t missing his monocle, however, although for some reason it was on the opposite eye. His hair was combed back, and Mingchao couldn’t help but think he looked fancier than she’d ever seen him. Well, she’d never seen him look fancy.

Although he looked like Alternate, the frown he wore was very much unlike him. He seemed stiffer and more unpleasant. Even so, Mingchao grinned with glee and threw herself at him.

“Alternate! Isn’t this great?! Look how pretty I am! I’m all grown up!” she squealed.

He squirmed in her clutches, smashed against her breasts. “M-Miss Mingchao! Are you having another one of your episodes?” He pushed away from her, his face as red as her room.

“Episodes?” Mingchao echoed.

“You’re acting like a child again. Ever since you hit your head those many years ago, you lose your memory and think you’re a kid again.”

Mingchao’s heart skipped. “You mean I have amnesia?”

Alternate scowled. “No! You just tend to forget from time to time. Now, I’ll give you a few more minutes to regain your senses, and then you can get on stage.” He turned quickly and hustled away from the room, down a dimly lit hallway. Mingchao stood at the door, staring after him.

The hallway was lined with doors, although none of them were marked from what she could see. Lamps were lit at regular intervals between the doors, and the hall seemed to stretch into infinity.

Alternate’s words returned to her. “Stage?” Mingchao said. “Does he mean…I’m a star?!” She slammed her door shut and ran to her vanity. She stared at her image with a panicked expression. “I forgot? Did we already go to New York City?” She stood there in front of the mirror, willing herself to remember, but she couldn’t fill in the story between the camp in the woods to this moment. She tried harder, scrunching her nose and creating lines in her forehead. _Remember. You have to remember. You’ve got an audience waiting for you._ With just that thought, her heart surged with joy. Her dream had come true! She was a Hollywood star just like she always wanted!

But if she couldn’t remember the past, could she remember how to perform?

She released the tension in her face, worried now that she’d get wrinkles. Glancing down at the face powder, she picked up the puff and gently applied it to her face.

Assuming the dress she wore was one she’d picked out before losing her memory, Mingchao stepped out into the hall, although she had no idea which way the stage was. It would be best to follow Alternate’s path.

Even with her momentary amnesia, she still knew how to walk in those impossible shoes. She swayed her hips like she’d been doing this for years, and it amazed her. It was like her body hadn’t forgotten. It made her feel amazing, and more beautiful than she’d ever felt in her life. How did she get here? How did she become a star? If she recalled correctly, she had no singing ability. Was she a dancer? No, not with these heels. If not a singer, than what could she be? She was excited to find out.

When she thought she could see an end to the hallway, a door opened in front of her, almost smashing her in the face. Mingchao stumbled back. “H-Hey! Watch it!” She caught her balance by placing a hand on the wall, glancing up to see the first name written on the door: FINO.

The door moved to shut and before her stood Fino and another young man—no, that was Yaghi! Fino looked her up and down with contempt. Unlike Mingchao’s coiled beehive, Fino’s hair fanned out around her shoulders in a more natural look. It was darker than she remembered, almost black. Her eyes were pools of ebony, and sharp. Her white dress showed less skin than Mingchao’s, but was nonetheless revealing in the sense that it clung to her every curve and hollow. It was longer and draped over the floor in waves, sparkling with sequins, but it was plain otherwise, with long flowing sleeves and a beaded belt.

“Oh! Fino,” Mingchao said with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“ _You_ should watch where you’re going,” Fino replied acidly. Yaghi looked at her her with concern. “I’m up before you, so I can’t have you bumbling into me around every corner.” Her voice was rich and feminine, and Mingchao envied her.

Yaghi was dressed in a suit similar to Alternate’s, although a bit toned down. His hair was braided behind his back. “Sister, you shouldn’t be so—“

“You’re a star, too, Fino?!” Mingchao blurted. “Wow!”

“She’s having another episode,” Yaghi said behind his hand to his sister.

“I see that,” Fino replied coolly. “Come on, Yaghi. She’s more difficult to deal with in this condition.”

The two of them glided away from her and disappeared beyond her sight. Mingchao was astonished. Fino was much meaner than she remembered. Weren’t they friends? What happened?

She followed after them, and the hall opened up to a larger space that was buzzing with activity. What were apparently stagehands were hurriedly hauling away sets and clearing the stage. The curtain was still down, and over in one corner stood Fino and Yaghi. Two women hovered around them, one combing Fino’s luxurious tresses and another fussing with her dress. Alternate stood in another corner and motioned for Mingchao to join him. Two other women were on standby next to him, their tools of the trade at ready.

The women perfected Mingchao’s uniform, and she took pleasure in the attention. She was someone important, a Hollywood star. She glanced around the stage, watching the workers put up an elaborate set that looked something like waves and a boat. The paint on the props shimmered. On the floor the workers spread sheets of white and pale blue and green. The sheets fluttered and bloomed to translate as the sea.

“Fino’s act is first,” Alternate said. “After that we have to change the set again. That’s when you go on.” He handed her the thick bundle of papers he’d been carrying earlier.

Mingchao sorted through the pages. _I’m an actress!_ she realized. _Of course!_ But when she turned another page, she recognized a music score. “Uhhh, do I have to sing?”

Alternate gave a deep sigh. “ _Yes_. Do you still not remember?”

Panic gripped Mingchao’s heart again. “Y-Yeah! I remember just fine!”

Alternate narrowed his eyes and didn’t appear convinced, yet he said nothing of it. “Well, this has happened before. You’ll snap out of it once the curtains go up.”

She felt abandoned and afraid when he left her to go hand Fino a copy of the script. Mingchao then stared down at the music score in horror. “But I can’t…I can’t sing,” she squeezed out. _How can I sing? Everyone knows I’m tone deaf!_ This contradiction sent her mind reeling. Had she learned to sing at some point?

In her near-terror, the world around her warped and wavered like someone had taken a flattened piece of cloth and scrunched it up. Then it straightened again, and everything was normal. Mingchao locked her knees to keep from staggering back. What was that all about? Did she almost faint?

She blinked. A sudden understanding came to her mind, and she flipped through the script again. Confidence swelled in her heart, and she somehow knew everything she was reading. How did she know these words? It was like she’d been studying them for months! Now the possibility of a song didn’t seem to faze her. _What the heck just happened to me?! How do I know all this stuff?_

Even while she was still reading the script, Alternate pushed her back behind the stage, and the show began. A narrator announced the start of the story, which was about a minor Greek goddess cast from Mount Olympus for her desire to become human. She set sail on the seas on a quest for a new home. Fino was the goddess, and when she set foot into the prop boat on the stage, the curtains lifted. Mingchao’s breath was stolen from her as she saw the audience. The theatre was immense and complete with draped balconies on both sides. This was no two-bit theatre! Each and every single seat she could see was filled, and the people were rapt with attention as soon as the spotlight fell on Fino. Workers out of sight on either side of the stage took hold of the sheets and shook them, causing them to billow slowly like waves on the ocean.

Then Fino opened her mouth. The song that flowed past her lips almost made Mingchao fall over. Fino’s role had been chosen well, for the voice she possessed was that of a goddess! Her pitch was perfect, and it was as elegant as the waves swelling below the boat. The sheets appeared to dance along with her tune. Mingchao flushed with an awful jealousy. She couldn’t help but wonder what her voice would sound like, and if it would be better than Fino’s.

She’d been so caught up in the song that even after it had ended she still stood there. Alternate’s presence was barely detectible beside her.

“She’s quite the singer,” he said, awed. Mingchao glanced at him to see that his cheeks were touched with color. A dreamy smile spread over his face.

“Yeah, she is,” she said with a nod. “Say, are you two—“

“Not at all!” Alternate replied quickly with a wave of his hands. “It’s purely professional! All those rumors about the time I spend in her room—“ He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Um, I’m not sure I follow,” Mingchao said with genuine confusion. “Why would people think that’s weird? You’re friends.”

“That’s exactly right!” Alternate told her. He lightly stomped his foot to drive the point. “Just friends!” Without another word about it, he turned away in haste. Mingchao watched him, still puzzled.

“It’s nothing to get worked up about,” she said under her breath.

Fino’s act ended, and for some reason the entire show seemed a blur to Mingchao. It was like her mind couldn’t follow the events that were skipping ahead like cut up scenes from a moving picture. She tried to focus her thoughts, but it was beyond her control. Was she sick or…?

The curtain dropped, and as thick as it was it couldn’t muffle the thunderous applause emanating from the audience. Mingchao soaked up the sound, feeling her body shake with anticipation. It wasn’t stage fright. It was the kind of excitement one felt when knowing they would be able to practice their greatest passion.

Her role would be that of a Chinese goddess in the new land the Greek goddess would inhabit. When Mingchao looked down at her dress, however, she didn’t quite understand why the costume designers chose _this_ kind of outfit for the role. She always remembered images of mythical Chinese figures having long robes with ribbons that defied gravity, flowing out from their bodies in copious volumes. Mingchao was dressed like, well…something else. But she had to trust that this was no mistake.

The stage was reset with extravagant pagodas and blossoming trees (fake, of course). The sheets were replaced on the floor with flowers scattered over them to resemble something akin to a lily pond. As Mingchao looked at it all, something clicked inside her. A tingle swept through her body, and her legs began moving onto the stage of their own accord. It felt so natural to her, like she’d been doing it her entire life. She wasn’t afraid, not a bit. This was in total contrast to her previous experience with Luriele and her performance troupe that one night.

But would she be able to sing?

For some unexplained reason, she felt confident about that, too.

Going to her place inside the pagoda, she felt a strange peace fall over her. The audience went silent as the curtains slowly rose. The spotlight trained on her, and the people held their breaths. There was a short pause, and Mingchao looked down at the orchestra placed below the stage. Had that been there the whole time? It seemed odd to her that these details had eluded her before. There even seemed to be a few extra balconies in the theatre.

When the orchestra began, she inhaled. Even at this moment, she still held courage.

The harmony streamed forth out of her lungs like a winding river coursing its way over the land. Mingchao was euphoric as she heard it. She couldn’t believe the song coming out of her mouth was being performed with her own voice. It sounded like someone else’s, yet she knew it was hers. Her friends used to laugh at her for being tone deaf, but look who’s laughing now!

While she was singing, her eyes gobbled up the audience. They were so focused on her, and only her, that she felt a flush coming on. This was the feeling she’d always dreamed about, and had desired for as long as she could remember. It was playing out exactly the way she dreamed it would. She was a fantastic performer, she was beautiful, and her audience adored her. If only she could remember how it all happened! Perhaps the memories would return given some time.

She spread her arms out as the script instructed, and she turned to take in each section of the theatre. The people would almost swoon as she gazed at them, especially the men. Some leered at her with mischievous intent, but she ignored them, absorbed as she was in her own performance.

Again her world skipped, or maybe it was because she was so happy that the moments felt like they were passing by quickly. The space around her was all aglow, that hazy halo she recalled seeing earlier on her possessions in her room. Her heart swelled in the magic she created, and her vision warped once more.

After casting the final note, the audience jumped to their feet and engaged in a clamorous applause that was deafening. Mingchao kept her arms outspread, sucking up all this love, her eyes brimming with tears at the sight of the roses being tossed onto the stage. She knelt to take one up when she heard the drumming of wings. White doves had been released from their cages near the orchestra, and they erupted into the air and into the rafters, leaving the attendants in awe and fascination.

It all ended too soon. The curtain was beginning to drop, but before it could obscure the box seats above her, she picked out a single face. She gasped. Was it him? She wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw a blond man who looked very familiar. Squinting to see better, she managed to make out more of his appearance before the curtain covered him. He was smiling at her.

The stagehands began to dismantle the set, and Mingchao was left pondering the familiar stranger. She could’ve sworn it looked like Baskerville, but his hair was much shorter. He’d been dressed in a black suit, but that was all she could determine before he was hidden.

A hand clapped her on the shoulder and she jumped. “Fantastic!” Alternate said happily, his monocle flashing in the lamplight.

“That’s it?” Mingchao asked. “All we did was sing!”

“That’s all for tonight. Come on, Mingchao, you know how it all goes.”

She stared at him incredulously. _Actually, I_ don’t _know how it all goes._ “Uhhh… Okay.” She was about to ask him what was next when he took off after Fino. Yaghi was nowhere to be found, and the two “friends” left down the hallway, probably to Fino’s room.

Supposing that was her next step, Mingchao decided to retire as well. Her body was still humming from her experience, and her legs felt weak. All the power she felt earlier was beginning to drain away through her feet, which were the only things keeping her moving. Where was her room again? Did she have her name on the door?

She stopped to take stock of her surroundings. _This hall goes on forever. It’s too weird._ Finding Fino’s door would’ve helped her mark her general location, but she never saw it. _Maybe I should go back to the stage?_ When she went to turn, there it was with her name on the door, a giant stare painted above it. She gave a start. “I didn’t see that before!”

Mingchao tried the knob. Her room was the same as she had left it, and she went straight for the couch to flop facedown. The cushion was soft enough, but she became uncomfortable on her stomach. She rose to a sitting position and looked down. _Oh, I forgot I had these_ , she thought as she regarded her breasts. It never occurred to her that it could actually hurt to press against them like that. It was still so odd to her that she couldn’t remember growing up. When would her memories return?

A knock at the door startled her, and she shot up from the couch to answer it. “Alternate, is that you?”

She halted. The man standing in front of her was not Alternate, but the person she saw in the box seats earlier. She blushed. “I-It’s you! It’s really you, Mr. Priest!” She launched herself at him, grabbing him in a hug, laughing and jumping. He gurgled out a few unintelligible words before she finally released him. “I knew that had to be you, Mr. Priest! But what happened to your hair?”

When she reached out to tousle it, the man pulled back. “Mingchao, not so loud!” he whispered. “And why are you calling me ‘Mr. Priest’?”

Mingchao was going to answer when she waved the question away. Of course. She was older now. She didn’t need to call him that anymore. As he stood there against the opposite wall, she noted with some curiosity that he didn’t look much older than she last remembered him. While everyone else had aged, somehow Baskerville remained the same. Why was that?

Mingchao pointed a teasing finger at him. “You look good,” she said with a smirk. He cocked his head in question.

Looking both ways, he said, “Can I come in now? I’ve been waiting all week to see you. We wouldn’t want your manager to see us. You know how he is.”

Mingchao grabbed him and pulled him into the room, shut the door, and locked it. “Say, Baskerville,” the name sounded odd on her tongue, “I can’t seem to remember—“ When she turned, he was in front of her, both hands placed on the door on opposite sides of her. He was inches from her face. Surprised, Mingchao tried to shrink back, but she was trapped. “W-What are you…?“

“I told you, I’ve been waiting all week,” he said. A playful mischief flitted over his face. She caught a whiff of his cologne, and her heart began pumping so hard she was certain her body was twitching with it. Clean shaven and handsome, Mingchao couldn’t remember a time when he looked this dashing. Cleaning up does wonders for a person, and sometimes Baskerville tended to look haggard from the long journey. Everyone did.

“Oh,” she said, sounding distant. She understood now. A hunger grew in his eyes.

Something clicked in her again, and the tingling returned to her limbs. Yes. This was right. She wanted this. His hand came up and gently touched her cheek. His hunger had dimmed somewhat, replaced with a more controlled desire.

She’d never realized it before. Her biggest dream had come true on the stage, but there was another one that had yet to be fulfilled—or had it been already? Apparently so, but she couldn’t remember any of it. She always thought it was beyond her reach, and she’d feared it would go unrequited.

But it hadn’t.

She reached up and pulled out her hair sticks. Her glossy mane fell down around her shoulders, its wealth heavy and thick. She looked at him through her lashes. _I’m grown now. I can do this._

Sensing her approval, Baskerville leaned in. As their lips drew close, Mingchao suddenly wondered if she knew how to kiss. She got her answer within moments, and the passionate exchange left her overwhelmed. She fell into the motions, and a squeak escaped her throat. She couldn’t get enough air. Their lips wouldn’t part.

In the midst of her intoxication she failed to notice how the image of the room around her began to run like wet paint. The air had become unbearably hot and humid, yet she could only feel rapturous bliss as it overtook her senses.

“Mingchao.”

The call was far away. It echoed in her ears.

“Mingchao!”

The dripping paint of the room leaked into oblivion.

“Would you wake up?!”

A jolt made her suddenly go stiff, and the hot room turned to ice. Mingchao’s eyes snapped wide.

The room was gone. All she could see was the roof of the tent. It was tinged with early morning light. She sat up and saw Baskerville staring at her aghast, a hand to his lips. In the open flap of the shelter were her friends, watching with worry.

Fino had her tomahawk in hand, her black eyes flashing, searching for danger. “What’s the matter? We heard shouting.”

“Mingchao was having a d-dream of some s-sort,” Baskerville said, his hand still on his mouth. “I woke up and…”

Benkate took notice of his gesture. She threw Mingchao a lewd smile. “Were you dreaming about kissing him? He woke up and found you on top of him, didn’t he?”

“I was just dreaming?” Mingchao asked, wide-eyed. Unashamed, she raised her fists. “I was having the _greatest dream ever!_ Why did you wake me up?!”

“Because you were trying—you were—k-kissing me!” Baskerville spouted. “What the heck were you dreaming about?”

“I was finally a Hollywood star!” Mingchao said, looking everyone in the face. “I was beautiful! I had pretty clothes, I was a really good singer, and everyone loved me—except you, Fino.”

Fino blinked and lowered her tomahawk.

“And Yaghi was there, and Alternate, and so was Mr. Priest! Except he didn’t like me calling him that. And there was a musical, with acting and singing and the stage was amazing! Fino could sing really well and Yaghi was all grown up and handsome and Alternate was kind of jerk but he was in love with Fino.”

Alternate glanced at Fino, sputtered awkwardly, and ducked out of the door.

“Oooh, what about me?” Benkate asked eagerly.

“You weren’t even there.”

Her smile fell.

Mingchao turned to Baskerville. “And Mr. Priest, you were…” She faltered when she remembered. “You were, u-uhhh… My… _friend._ ”

“Hold on a second,” Fino said. She slid her tomahawk into her sash and glowered at her. “Mingchao, you ate those mushrooms, didn’t you? Those ones I told you not to eat.”

Mingchao hung her head. “Yes.”

“That’s what this is all about. You had wild dreams because of those. Now I know what they were. The medicine men in my village won’t even touch those. Only the craziest of dreamers would ever eat them, and only very few. They’re used for trances and understanding our inner mind. They show us our deepest desires and allow them to be real for a short while.”

“Her deepest desires?” Benkate repeated. She looked at Mingchao, and for once an uneasy expression crossed over her face. She took one last look at Baskerville and departed. She was heard saying, “Come on, Yaghi, you don’t need to hear any more of that.” The boy obeyed, yawning.

Only Fino was left—and Baskerville, who had no choice but to stay. “ _Now_ will you listen to me when I tell you not to eat stuff?” she said to Mingchao. The other girl nodded sheepishly. Then Fino’s frown faded. She peeked over her shoulder, and knelt in the doorway. “Say… What was that you were saying about Alternate earlier?”

Grumbling to himself, Baskerville got up and left the tent.

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